


Our Bonds of Affection

by coldgreydawn



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 1940s, California, Drama & Romance, F/M, Friendship/Love, Los Angeles, Marriage, Marvel Universe, Post-World War II, Strategic Scientific Reserve, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-05-27 00:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6262684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldgreydawn/pseuds/coldgreydawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-finale. Peggy learns to enjoy being in a relationship again, that is, until Ana Jarvis asks her a strange question one afternoon and the fallout leads to consequences neither she nor Edwin Jarvis could have imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Later, when the dust had settled, so to speak, she had had to admit to that her dalliance with Chief Daniel Sousa had been quite...fun. She could think of no other word for it, really. She adored him, truly, and respected him, admired his courage. He was, perhaps unsurprisingly, a very good kisser, and it was quite obvious how much he revered her. Loved her, even.

And really, it was quite nice to have someone around who was not afraid to show affection, or express it. She relished in the feel of his arms around her, his body warm against her, grounding her here on this earth. Keeping her from fading away, not unlike the machine that Dr. Wilkes had had to build to keep him anchored here.

And Daniel was a good man. Good almost to a fault, really. She supposed, in hindsight, too good for her. But in the weeks following Agent Thompson’s shooting, as they waited, nervously, to see if he would wake up from the coma he’d been in since they’d repaired the damage to his lung, he was a comfort and a delight to her. Jack had lost a lot of blood, and by the time he was found he was already in shock. The doctors feared that he’d suffered irreparable brain damage, but they admitted that only time would tell.

So the Agents of the SSR waited.

And despite their concern for Jack, it was, for a while, a pleasant, halcyon time. All smiles and hope and healing. Work was as drudging as ever, as they all diligently searched for Jack’s would-be assassin, and scoured the city for Dottie Underwood. Peggy wasn’t sure those two tasks weren’t one and the same.

Still, on their days off there was still time for lounging by Stark’s pool, going out to the pictures and out for supper. Sometimes just the two of them, sometimes with Howard and his belle-du-jour, and even occasionally with Ana and Edwin Jarvis, the former still recovering from the injury that had wounded Peggy's heart as effectively as it had taken Ana's fecundity.

But, the more time Peggy spent in the redheaded woman's presence, the more her guilt was assuaged, for Ana was as forgiving and vibrant and wonderful as Peggy had assumed any woman worthy of charming Edwin Jarvis into committing _treason_ of all things must have to be.

And as Angie was far away in New York, disappointed that Peggy had decided to extend her sojourn in Los Angeles, and as Peggy was at most times, surrounded by men, they had taken to each other.

And while she liked and respected these men (most of the time), she supposed there was no substitute for pouring your heart out to your best girlfriend.

So she found herself growing closer to the butler's wife, who, it would seem, held Peggy in just as high a regard. Ana never hesitated to lend her an ear whenever Peggy had something she needed to get off her chest, and Peggy was more than willing to listen to Ana describe the struggles she faced, both physically and mentally, as she recovered from her injuries.

And Peggy had to admit it was nice to have a beau again. As the four of them lounged by the pool one warm weekend, Edwin and Ana, Peggy and Daniel, she had to admit it felt good to be part of couple. She was so used to being alone, a singular entity, and she felt especially so in the presence of Mr. Jarvis and his wife. So to have someone, finally, who was smitten with her, and whom she cared for deeply, as well, at her side was certainly different. In a good way, of course.

The four of them had an easy rapport with each other, having spent so much time together in such dire circumstances. Jarvis and Daniel were in the pool, tossing a ball back and forth, with Edwin prattling on about the benefits of keeping fit, and offering to teach Sousa the finer points of yoga, a meditation and exercise practice from India Jarvis was certain would help Daniel in the rehabilitation of his leg.

She and Ana watched them occasionally while the two women spoke about varied topics: their parents and siblings, Howard’s next picture, Hungarian recipes, the climate, and, most hilariously, Bernard the flamingo. And while she felt relaxed and rested for the first time in what she was sure must have been years, she had to admit that she always felt comparatively dim when sitting next to the brightness and radiance that was Edwin's flame-haired, fair-skinned wife.

The California sun was seemingly casting a halo around Ana Jarvis today, despite the fact that they were in the shade, and her alabaster skin seemed to glow as if lit from within. Peggy did not often feel envious of other women, especially not when it came to looks, and she certainly was not prone to insecurities about her own appearance. She was confident in the body she’d been given.

It was just that Ana was so captivatingly serene and effortlessly beautiful, delicate and feminine, yet still a force to be reckoned with. Not to mention terribly kind and selfless and soft-spoken, and really, just all of the things that Peggy Carter knew she wasn’t and would never be.

And why it left her with a mild, yet lingering feeling of discontent while in the presence of the Jarvises and her new SSR Chief boyfriend, she didn't want to ask even herself. She was happy with Daniel. He and she had been dancing around this thing for quite some time, had they not? And he was such a lovely man: determined and brave, intelligent and endearing.

If Ana noticed her discomfort, she did not let on, nor did she appear to have noticed the glances Peggy accidentally shot at Edwin from time to time, only to find her driver already gazing back at her with that look of his. And as Edwin’s gazes were nothing if not intense, and she always found it very difficult to look away when his blue eyes were boring in on her. But he was her friend, and they just happened to be rather attuned to each other, having grown up in the same country and experienced a lot of the same things. She didn’t put much thought into it.

Later, as the boys exited the pool and entered the house to ‘cook up some vittles for our ladies’ (Daniel’s words, though she expected it had been the butler’s idea), Ana smiled, and sat for a while after the door had closed behind them, gazing out at Howard Stark’s beautifully manicured back yard.

Peggy took a cue from her and leaned back in her lounge chair, taking a deep breath and relishing the fact that for the next day or two there were no bad guys to chase. Well, there were, but they would keep until the good guys were appropriately rested.

She smiled at how loose her muscles felt, at how the sun seemed to imbue her with a natural calm. She was relaxing with her closest friends and her charming new beau at a palatial estate. Whitney Frost was locked away forever, Jack, according to the most recent report from his doctor, seemed to be showing more and more signs of life, they had a few leads on his shooter that she’d investigate come Monday. Life, as it were, was good.

But then Ana Jarvis decided to speak.

“Daniel is a very lovely man,” she said, almost drowsily, and Peggy smiled at her words.

“He is, Mrs. Jarvis, he truly is,” she replied.

Ana was quiet for some time, and Peggy turned to her in the warmth of the afternoon to see her contemplative, tapping her delicate fingers on the arm of her chair.

“But you don’t love him, do you, Peggy Carter?”

Peggy’s heart quite possibly skipped a beat as she stared at the woman beside her. For several seconds she couldn’t think to speak.

“I—well, I don’t…that is to say, Mrs. Jarvis, that I care for him, and very deeply so, and I expect in time, I’ll grow to love him,” she said, feeling like an idiot. “Daniel and I haven’t had a lot of time—”

“You’ve worked together for years, have you not?”

“Well, yes, a few years, but that was _work_. I didn’t, I mean, _we_ didn’t, or rather, we haven’t had a chance to get to know each other, as people,” Peggy stammered out, sighing defeatedly. She knew her bumbling words had convinced no one.

“But what about Dr. Wilkes? The two of you seemed to hit it off right away.”

Peggy sighed. “Well, yes, and I do still care for him, but I suppose I got a bit caught up in the moment. The danger, the dancing. But it is very hard to forget a man pointing a gun at your head as a means to his own end, however understandable that end may be. Still, he’s such an intelligent man and as a man of colour he has faced so much—”

“Not unlike the adversity that your Chief Sousa has faced, no? The piteous looks and the hours of physical therapy.”

“Well, _I_ don’t pity him,” Peggy said, and it was the truth. “He’s proved himself time and again.”

“I wasn’t implying that you did,” Ana said. Peggy was getting increasingly uncomfortable with this line of questioning. “I am just trying to help you see what others see, but perhaps you cannot.”

Peggy frowned and turned to look at the woman. “I don’t understand.”

“Can I ask you a question, Ms. Carter? A personal one?”

Peggy scoffed. “You might as well.”

“I know that it has taken you a very long time to feel comfortable with romantic pursuits again,” she said, her round blue eyes gazing at Peggy imploringly, “but I’m curious. If, when you met, if Mr. Jarvis had not been my husband, or, anyone’s husband for that matter, would you have pursued a romantic relationship with him, when you were ready to?”

“Mrs. Jarvis!” Peggy burst out, as scandalised as Peggy Carter could possibly be. “Why on earth would you ask me that?”

Ana, to her credit, merely shrugged, a tiny half-smile crooking the corner of her mouth.

“I—I can’t even really begin to answer that question,” Peggy said. “I mean, everything would be different if he were not married to you. The first time we met he spoke of you, and I could tell how much he loved you. I never thought of him in that way.”

“But if he hadn’t spoken of me?”

Peggy could only shake her head at this perplexing woman sat beside her. “I suppose, I mean, it was nice to hear his accent if anything. Made me think of home. Of course, the first time we met, I socked him.” Peggy laughed, and saw Ana smile at this as well. “And then Howard pulled up and I was so happy to see him again. He made me think of Steve.” Peggy smiled at the memory. “Of course, I was very grateful when Mr. Jarvis came with me to the Roxxon plant without even a second thought. He saved my life, you know? We both could have easily died that night if not for him.” She sighed, looking down at her lap. “I knew I’d met a friend for life, and yes, perhaps if circumstances had been different we may have travelled down that path in time, we certainly get on well enough. But he only had eyes for you, Ana.”

Ana smiled. “And I love him too, with all my heart. But you must understand that before you showed up our lives were relatively…dull,” she said.

“Er, yes, as you both keep saying.”

“He was bored. I know he missed the war, even if he never spoke it. He knew I did not miss it. But I could tell he ached to have purpose again, and you gave him purpose, Ms. Carter. He was himself again, the same man who rescued me all those years ago. I knew it could be dangerous, but Edwin was enjoying life again. I didn’t care why. And as time went on and he told me of your exploits, I couldn’t wait to meet you,” Ana said, and Peggy smiled in spite of herself. “Of course for a long while I assumed it was the adventure Edwin loved so much. I know that was part of it. But he cares for you, very much so. I see the way you look at each other,” she said, and Peggy opened her mouth to object. “You don’t have to defend yourself. Sometimes two people meet and they are just suited to each other. And you are an amazing woman, Peggy Carter. Daniel is a good man who loves you deeply, but I suspect that in the end he won’t be able to keep up with you. Edwin, despite his occasional bumbling, I believe, is very much your equal.”

Peggy could only shake her head at these words, her mouth open with denials she couldn’t seem to articulate. It was some time before she was able to speak.

“Mrs. Jarvis, I assure you that is not the case. Your husband is a dear friend to me, and I care for him a great deal. But that is all he is to me, a friend. I couldn’t—I _don’t_ feel that way for him, and I don’t see how he could feel that way about me. He loves you, so much. If only you could have seen him after you were shot. He didn’t care about me, or anything else. You were the only thing on his mind.”

Ana smiled, genuinely, and nodded. “I know that Edwin was very upset. I could see it in his eyes when I first awoke. But I think that his reaction was as much due to guilt as it was to love,” Ana said. “I don’t doubt that my husband loves me, Ms. Carter. But I also believe that there are feelings between you and him that, perhaps, defy convention. Feelings I don’t believe either of you have acknowledged.”

Peggy could only shake her head. Why was this woman doing this to her? The Jarvises were the perfect couple, happy and so very much in love with each other. Devoted to each other. She didn’t understand.

“I can love Daniel, Ana,” Peggy said, at last. “And I’m not in love with your husband.” She turned to see what she had been dreading: Ana gazing back at her almost sadly, a wrinkle of doubt creasing her pretty brow.

But then the door opened and the men burst out, chattering animatedly about something and carrying trays laden with assorted crudités.

And she and Ana were forced to be themselves again, smiling as Daniel and Jarvis laid the trays down on the little table. It left Peggy to wonder if her bizarre, discomfiting conversation with Edwin’s wife had even happened, as she picked up a particularly appetizing-looking item that looked like dumpling with a hard crust.

“What are these, Mr. Jarvis?” she asked, perfectly normally, as if she and Ana had been discussing hair salons and frocks the entire time they’d been gone. She had to admit she was getting rather good at this acting business.

“Miniature tacos, Ms. Carter!” Jarvis exclaimed, and Peggy exchanged a smiled with Ana. “And I assure you, they are just as delightful as the regular-sized ones!”

Peggy couldn’t help but laugh.


	2. Chapter 2

Peggy managed to compartmentalise her discomfort for another full hour of poolside conversation before excusing herself to retire to her quarters. She blamed the nearly-healed wound in her side, which still ached terribly at times, and was now throbbing angrily.

As well, she was finding it increasingly difficult to keep Mr. Jarvis from becoming suspicious. Every time the crystal-blue of his eyes met hers, she found herself inadvertently and abruptly diverting her gaze from his, and instead suddenly finding random objects in the yard very interesting indeed.

She noticed a concerned frown had appeared on his face after a few of these incidents, and she was fairly certain she caught him glancing between Ana and herself, the wheels turning in his head. So she smiled at everyone, not wanting to cause any sort of incident, gave Daniel a peck on the cheek, and retreated back into the cool, dark house.

She took a deep breath the second the door closed behind her. Shaking her head as she walked, still completely befuddled by the turn the day had taken, she shuffled off to Howard’s bathroom. There, she took two aspirin out of the medicine cabinet and swallowed them, hoping it would take the edge off the pounding pain in her left flank, not to mention the headache that was beginning to make itself known.

Ana was absolutely mad. She had to be. Why else would she have risked everything she had with her husband?

There was no way that Mr. Jarvis saw Peggy in _that_ way. Of course, she supposed, as she entered her bedroom and collapsed upon the big, soft four-poster, that you could never really know what was hidden in another's heart. But clearly, to her anyways, Edwin Jarvis enjoyed her company simply because she just happened to get involved in very exciting, often very dangerous escapades, and he found those adventures very thrilling indeed. And, not to mention the fact that they were two foreigners in a foreign land, and it was nice to have someone to remind one of home. There was nothing more to it than that. They were friends, comrades.

She couldn’t understand why Ana didn’t see that. Perhaps it was due to the injury she’d suffered? Peggy could tell she’d been affected by the shooting, perhaps more than she was letting on. Did she feel she was inadequate to her husband now that she’d been rendered barren? Was she planning on leaving him, and wanted to know that there’d be someone to care for him once she left?

Oh, Peggy didn’t know. She certainly hoped that wasn’t the case. It would crush Mr. Jarvis to if his wife left, especially considering how close he had come to losing her forever. She huffed and turned over onto her back, staring up at the ceiling morosely.

She didn’t want Ana to leave. But, at the same time, she didn’t want her to be unhappy, either. And something about the way she had so cavalierly questioned Peggy’s feelings, potentially creating a very unpleasant situation, was a rather reckless gesture. And Peggy had never known Ana to be particularly so.

She sighed deeply as she rolled back over onto her uninjured right side, thankful to find that the aspirin was starting to ease the pain considerably. She closed her eyes, hoping that sleep would come and she’d feel much less disoriented once she woke.

But in doing her very best _not_ to think of Edwin Jarvis or his wife, she unfortunately found the image of him sprung to mind as soon as she’d closed her eyes. And suddenly all she could see was his long, lithe body, wiry muscles rippling rather pleasantly beneath his tanned skin as he’d walked past her earlier that afternoon. She shook her head and huffed again, opening her eyes.

She hadn’t meant to gawk earlier, it was just that she’d just been rather surprised at how lovely a figure he cut. She’d never seen him in his trunks before, and seeing so much of a body that spent most of its time covered up entirely by a three-piece woolen suit had been fascinating to say the least.

She shifted to her front, shoving her face into the pillow, trying to push that image from her mind. But in doing so, she started to think about how dear the man in question had become to her. About the many, many times he’d come to her aid, unsolicited, and how he’d all but saved her life more times than she could count. She certainly didn’t want to think about the way he’d grown over the past year, about how effective he was becoming in the field. The way he’d handled Dottie Underwood at Calvin Chadwick’s fundraiser, and how he’d read Jack Thompson like a book and had given the usually slick younger man a dressing-down that had clearly left him bemused at the least.

But of course, it was the intensity in his blue eyes that came especially to mind, particularly when things became rather serious (as they were wont to) and she would find him looking at her like _that._

Like she was the only woman in the world. Like he could see into the depths of her soul.

It had been a very long time since anyone had looked at her like that.

She groaned and closed her eyes tightly, trying to keep the images and thoughts at bay. She did _not_ have any sort of romantic feelings for Edwin Jarvis! And he couldn’t possibly have feelings for her, either. The entire idea was preposterous. He was _married_ , for god’s sake, and no matter what sort of thing his wife was trying to accomplish, she would respect their vows. Not that she had any plans of acting on any sort of feelings that she clearly _did not have_ for Howard’s butler!

She steadied her breathing, attempting to calm herself. She could still hear the muffled sounds of talking out by the pool, of her companions enjoying what was left of the afternoon. She tried to ignore it. Why on earth did Ana had to go and open her mouth like that she did not know. Peggy had been having a lovely day. The first in a very long line of decidedly non-lovely days. She’d finally found a man with whom she could see herself possibly having a future. And now she was questioning it all, stupidly, weakly. Ana’s questions had thrown her, forced her to think about things that she had never thought of before.

 _I suppose that’s your lot in life_ , she told herself. _Things start to look up, and then everything goes to shit._ She sighed deeply, finding that the cool, dark room was finally starting to have its desired effect on her. She could feel her body starting to calm as she lay on the bed, breathing steadily and doing her very best to think of nothing at all.

Eventually the drowsiness came, and she welcomed the oblivion, finally drifting off as the sounds of muffled laughter and chatter floated in from outside.

Ψ

A knock at her door nearly stopped her heart, violently pulling her out of blissful sleep and back into the land of the living. She groaned, trying to shake the drowsiness from her head. The nap she’d been taking had been dreamless and serene and she silently cursed whoever had had the indecency to wake her from it.

She sat up with some difficulty, her sided protesting stiffly as she swung her legs off the mattress. She pushed herself out of bed and onto her feet, swaying slightly before taking a few unsteady steps.

“Just a minute,” she called to the door, after another knock startled her sleepy body and mind. She grabbed her robe and pulled it on, shuffling from her room and peeking around the corner to see Daniel standing outside the glass doors. She sighed in relief and stepped forward to open the door.

“You okay?” he asked. He had gotten a healthy tan today, she noticed, and it suited him, as his dark skin contrasted with the white of his cotton shirt and the loose slacks he wore over his bathing trunks, slung low on his hips.

She nodded, clearing her throat. She couldn’t help but notice that only one of his shirt’s buttons were fastened, and that his rather well-toned abdomen was on full display. She smiled and forced her gaze back up to his face, unsurprised to see concern evident in his round, dark eyes.

“I was just tired, Daniel,” she told him. “Came in to take a nap.”

He nodded, and smiled, and she found herself unable to resist smiling back at him. Then, without warning, he leaned forward and kissed her soundly on the lips. She was thrown by his actions, and it took a second or two before she could respond to the kiss in earnest, her hands fisting in the lapels of his shirt as her mouth softened against his. Her arms found themselves wending around his middle, pulling him toward her, over the threshold of the door.

She closed it behind him and he pulled away from her, leaving them both breathless, their mouths inches apart. His eyes met hers and she saw the unsaid question there. _Are you sure?_

Instead of answering, she pulled him flush against her and pressed her lips to his.

The feel of his erection against her leg jarred her, suddenly filling her with need for the first time in a very long time. She moaned into his mouth as he ground his hips against hers, the ache between her legs becoming almost uncomfortable. At once, she could think of nothing other than divesting Daniel Sousa of all of the garments he was currently wearing and throwing caution to the wind.

All the last vestiges of sleep left her as she closed the bedroom door behind them and she felt the cool wood of her bed bump up against the back of her legs.

It was then that she made up her mind.

So (as she would only realise later), in an admittedly impudent attempt to prove Ana Jarvis completely and totally wrong, Peggy Carter took Daniel Sousa to her bed.

Ψ

Jack Thompson woke from his coma two days later, but unfortunately had no memory of any of the events that had hospitalised him. He was still very disoriented and confused, though the doctors were encouraged by the fact that his memory was not affected, as he could recall some of the events of the days leading up to his shooting, and he recognised all of his colleagues and was able to remember their names.

And while Peggy was certain that Dottie Underwood was in some way responsible for Jack’s current state, what she didn’t understand was why the woman would have been so bold to shoot an unarmed SSR agent only to steal the redacted and seemingly falsified documents that Jack had acquired simply for the purposes of blackmailing Peggy. What use would they be to her?

While Jack’s doctors assured them that his progress was promising, they stressed that he still had a long road of recovery ahead of him. And so they limited his visits, giving his fellow agents precious little time to extract any little bit of memory they could from Agent Thompson’s head. They were only allowed short, supervised visits before the nurse would usher them out, explaining that he needed his rest.

So they were forced to head back to the drawing board, questioning the hotel employees again, scouring Jack’s room for evidence again, and resigning themselves to the kind of boring police work that Peggy found rather especially tedious. So she left it to the men. They were better at it than her, anyway.

She was more curious to find out what exactly the lapel pin cum skeleton key Jack had given her was designed to open. She hadn’t had much luck with it so far, but was planning to get out on the town and do some digging of her own. It was what she was best at, after all.

Of course, having managed to avoid both Ana Jarvis _and_ her husband for the better part of a week, Peggy found herself having to take cabs around town, a rather awkward and expensive affair that left her wishing that her and Ana’s strange poolside heart-to-heart had never happened. She still didn’t understand why the woman seemed so intent on possibly jeopardising her seemingly blissful marriage. Encouraging the affections of the woman one believed to be romantically interested in one’s own husband seemed rather a recipe for disaster to Peggy. And more to it, seemed incongruous with the Ana she knew and admired.

Peggy envied the Jarvises’ marriage both for the romance and intrigue behind its origins, and for how committed and caring the two were with each other. They seemed happy. Peggy had found herself wishing she could some day be part of a union as blissful as theirs. Why Ana would ever want to change that…

Perhaps the shooting that had nearly claimed her life had changed her more than had been obvious to them? It was possible. Traumatic events affected people in a myriad of ways. Sometimes these effects were only obvious to others, and not to the person who they were affecting.

Above all, Peggy fervently hoped that Ana would forget about the whole thing, and never speak of it again. Then Peggy could erase it from _her_ mind and things could go on as if it had never happened.

In the meantime, she kept busy with work, visits to Agent Thompson, and with Daniel, the latter of which brought a guilty smile to her face whenever she thought of him. Of how intimately they getting to know each other and each other’s bodies, of how they’d spend afternoons just lying together as their sweat dried, sated and spent.

He was as sweet and giving as a man as he was a lover. Peggy had expected that. What she hadn’t expected was how much _fun_ she was having, being with a man again.

Before now, the sexual experiences she’d had had been few, fevered and hurried. With Steve, there had been precious little time to be together, the fear of being caught making each encounter a rather rushed and heated affair. And she remembered little of the subsequent, shameful, drunken affair she’d had with her closest friend amid the grief of Captain Rogers’s death. It was such a regretful incident, Peggy had taken it upon herself to threaten Howard to never speak of it again, lest he wish to lose the member he so valued. Miraculously, or perhaps not, her friend had complied.

It was an open secret that women often enjoyed sex. But even among her fellow females it was frowned upon when one seemed to enjoy it _too_ much.

But Peggy found herself unable to become concerned over how wonderfully freeing she found it to be allowed to spend so much time in the bedroom. She couldn’t even muster up the decency to be embarrassed as she and Daniel spent hours with each other, learning what little things pleasured the other the most. Perfecting their routine and leaving both of them breathless, their bodies limp and sated, clinging to each other as their hearts beat wildly. She had to admit that she was really rather happy to have discovered finally what all the fuss was about. To learn that the act could be pleasurable for both parties, and could imbue her with a new kind of confidence as a woman that she’d never quite had before.

As well, it was a welcome distraction from work, which had become rather frustrating with the lack of any credible leads on the individual who’d shot Jack, and from the somewhat awkward situation Peggy found herself in, living in the same home as Edwin Jarvis and his wife.

She had gotten into the habit of leaving for work early, taking taxis and eschewing all conversation with either of the Jarvises. When she wasn’t working late, she’d spend the evenings with Daniel, either at his house or out on the town. By the time he dropped her off, Mr. and Mrs. Jarvis were often in bed, and if they weren’t, Peggy would avoid them at all costs and promptly retire to her room.

She knew she wouldn’t be able to avoid contact with them forever, as Howard’s home was large but certainly not _that_ large. Eventually they were certain to cross paths. But she wasn’t sure what else she was supposed to do. Ana’s behaviour had left her wary of spending any time alone with the woman, and even more afraid of what might happen if Edwin happened join in the conversation.

Peggy wanted nothing more than to forget about the whole thing. She wanted things back the way they were, with her and Ana becoming friends, with Mr. Jarvis at her side while she dashed around Los Angeles, chasing after leads. She needed friends in her line of work, and she found herself longing for things to go back to the way they were before. She missed them both terribly, but she felt that keeping her distance was the solution. Maybe if she waited long enough, things could go back to normal. They certainly had to, right?

She had no idea how wrong she was about to be.


	3. Chapter 3

Peggy Carter managed to avoid both Ana and Edwin Jarvis for a full week after the incident next to the pool. However, she’d begun to realise her plan wasn’t sustainable at all.

It was inevitable that she would run into at least one of them eventually, and Mr. Jarvis would _have_ to be growing at least somewhat suspicious by now, what with Peggy taking pains to avoid him at all costs. She'd seen the look in his eye before she'd made her hasty escape into the house a week before. He was a very observant man, and her behaviour hadn't gone unnoticed.

Another, most distressing concern was the fact that she missed _both_ the Jarvises quite fiercely. Ana had been become a dear friend and a terrific confidante, with her endless patience and her candour. Peggy found there was little that shocked her, little that she hadn't heard already, and it had helped the two of them immensely to have each other to talk to.

And Edwin was the ideal partner for Peggy when she inevitably was forced to stray from officially sanctioned SSR operations, which, truth be told, happened quite often. As a result, she was finding it rather difficult to get very much done at all on her own.

Jarvis just had a way of complementing her, making little comments here and there that got her thinking, starting her on the path to figuring out her next step. He stood watch while she stuck her neck out, could help her out in a pinch and was getting rather good at pulling her fat from the fire.

She had to admit that in this spy business, two was often better than one. She missed the steady presence of him beside her in the car, always knowing he’d be waiting for her outside when she finished whatever she was doing.

For so long, he had ingratiated his way into her endeavours, often much to her chagrin, but now that he wasn’t waiting for her at the end of the day, hoping to head out on another adventure, she had to admit she missed him dearly.

They were fractured, their team, with Jack in hospital, Daniel away in San Francisco visiting his aunt, who had suffered a stroke but was seemingly on the mend, Howard off in god-knows-where, and the Jarvises unfortunately having to be avoided. Jason Wilkes had made himself scarce after the incident with the dark matter, feeling rather guilty, she imagined, for the bedlam he’d caused.

She arrived late from her shift that Saturday night, a shift she wasn’t even supposed to work, and flopped down despondently in the armchair in her bedroom. She was feeling quite lonesome for first time in a very long time. She was so used to being around people, what with Howard’s home and the SSR often a hotbed of activity, that the silence at that moment was deafening.

In fact, she was feeling like she didn’t have a friend in the world.

She had hoped to spend her Saturday lounging in bed and reading, maybe going out to see a picture on her own, or doing some shopping, but Daniel had called from San Francisco, explaining he needed two bodies to stake out a warehouse that was thought to be a front for a Russian outfit connected to Leviathan and, by extension, Dottie Underwood.

It had turned out to be a complete waste of time, as the Russians in question were in fact a family that had conducted legal business in the area for years, and the building in question was no front, but in fact, an actual warehouse full of fish.

So, after an hours-long search through the building, and then for their source, both in vain, Peggy had returned home tired, irritated and smelling strongly of fish. Disgusted, she’d stood in the shower until she was sure the smell was gone. She’d seriously considered burning the clothes she’d been wearing, but settled on instead stuffing them to the bottom of the hamper and moving the entire thing out of her room altogether for the maid to pick up in the morning.

She had then laid down and tried to sleep, but found herself tossing and turning for a very long time, feeling restless and, frankly, rather frustrated. She hadn’t been able to see Daniel for three whole days. And this after the two of them had managed to meet up every single day since they’d consummated their relationship.

Quite frankly, Peggy was feeling somewhat…deprived.

She _had_ offered to join him in San Francisco, but he’d turned her down graciously, explaining that he needed her to hold down the fort while he was away. She knew he was right. Jack was still in hospital, recovering rather quickly and impressing his doctors, and the group of young agents they had were looking for guidance. So Peggy stayed, communicating with their chief via telephone from time to time.

The futility of their operations today had added to the general feeling of frustration that was eating at her. She needed a release. And though she wasn’t necessarily above servicing the need herself, it was likely not to be adequate tonight. She needed to have him with her, wanted the feel of him next to her, his breath mingling with hers. She wanted to fall asleep in his arms, skin on skin, cocooned in his warmth. But that wasn’t going to happen tonight.

She huffed with frustration and turned over to look at the time. Nearly three o’clock in the morning. _Bloody perfect._ She had been hoping to get up early Sunday and head to work to follow up on some leads before picking Daniel up at the airport later in the evening.

But at this rate, considering she hadn’t been getting very much sleep at all for the better part of the week, there was a very good chance she wouldn’t be able to be roused until noon at the earliest.

And Edwin and Ana would be awake and unavoidable at that hour.

She sighed. _Just breathe,_ she told herself. _Deep, steady breaths._ She tried to remember the relaxation techniques she’d had to use to get to sleep in various occasions in the past: while out in the field on the hard ground, on cots and in tents with others snoring nearby, and especially, in the weeks following Steve’s death.

After her reliance on liquor had led to the embarrassing encounter with Howard, she’d sworn off the swill and had instead resumed the breathing and exercise regime that had helped her before. That had been moderately successful.

She started to do what she’d done before; relaxing her abdomen and hips, her shoulders and legs. Then hands and feet and her jaw. All the while, breathing deeply. She thought of happier times, of her childhood with Michael, of running about in the yard, chasing after her brother. The way the sunlight filtered through the trees as they lay in the grass, Michael reading to her, making up silly voices as he did and sending her into fits of giggles.

She smiled, and felt her body start to calm. Her mind, too, eventually became quieter, and she became more and more comfortable in the big bed. The exhaustion of the week finally began to catch up to her, and it wasn’t long before her eyelids started to droop heavily and sleep mercifully claimed her.

Ψ

_They were in the driveway again, pulling in as Whitney Frost drove away. Jarvis was next to her, in the car, but as she stopped and got out, he disappeared, and she saw that it was not Ana, but her husband lying on the asphalt, bleeding. Fear gripped her as she ran toward him, all thoughts of Dottie or Whitney or Jason gone from her mind as she came upon Edwin Jarvis, clutching his abdomen in vain as blood poured out._

_It didn’t matter what she did, how much pressure she put on the wound, the blood came and came, and when she looked up at his face, it was not Edwin Jarvis but Captain Steve Rogers looking back at her. Her heart skipped a beat as she watched the life drain from him. He was so pale, so weak. His still-florid lips were moving slowly, but no sound was coming out. She screamed for help, to anyone, yelled and shouted, but her voice would not work. She couldn’t talk, couldn’t move. She couldn’t save him. Again._

_Then, he looked up at her, and smiled that smile of his. The one that made her feel like everything would be okay as long as he could just keep looking at her like that. And then, all life went out of him._

Peggy awoke with a gasp.

She lay there, breathing heavily as she tried to get her bearings. It was still pitch black, and a glance at her clock confirmed it had been barely two hours since she’d gone to sleep. She sighed.

She’d been dreaming, she realised, but _oh, how real it had felt_. She’d seen him, her captain. He had died in her arms. She sniffled, and wiped at her eyes, finding them, curiously, wet, and her pillow wet, too. She’d been crying in her sleep.

That hadn’t happened for a very long time.

Her breathing very slowly returned to normal, and while the dream slowly faded from memory, the emotions it had stirred did not. A deep, heavy sadness pressed down on her, gripping her heart.

She’d been doing so well! She had been feeling so much better of late, lighter and happier. Daniel had been the salve to the wound of her grief this past week. She’d been having so much fun with him that it was hard to remember those sad months after Steve’s death.

But now it was all coming back to her. The hopelessness and despair. The whiskey, and sleepless nights. Slipping away to hide in cupboards or bathrooms while she sobbed inconsolably. She squeezed her eyes shut, pushing back the tears that threatened to fall.

She threw back the covers, gasping as the cool night air hit her warm body, and raised herself out of bed. Quickly putting on her slippers and dressing gown, she quietly made her way toward the kitchen.

She poured herself a glass of water when she got to the sink, gulping it down greedily. She wiped her mouth, placing the glass down on the countertop, and took a big, uneven breath.

Turning, she looked out the window at the moonlit palm trees in the yard, their fronds rippling slightly in the breeze, and after some time her heart and lungs slowed their rhythms and her body began to calm.

A deep melancholy still filled her. The image of Steve’s face, drawn and white, the life seeping out of him, was seared in her brain.

She had never gotten the chance to see his body. There had been no open casket with him in it, no procession past it, no final chance to lean down and say goodbye.

He'd been alive and talking to her, and then he was gone.

He was dead, yes, and she had come to accept that fact. But there was a part of her, buried deep down, that still hoped they’d find him some day. She knew it was stupid. She knew it was hopeless. And she knew she would never truly be able to move on if she still thought he’d be found. She _knew_ all of this. And yet she still believed that as long as he remained missing, some day they would find him.

It was why the dream had affected her so. It had been so vivid and real, and it had been everything that she had never gotten in real life. Proof of death. Closure.

 _And oh, how horrible it had been._ The helplessness and hopelessness, the refusal to accept the inevitable. Knowing the futility of her attempts to save him, but unable to quit nonetheless.

But, after some time, as she stood there in the cool, moonlit kitchen, a curious lightness began to come over her. Almost like relief, but not quite. Like some weight had lifted from her shoulders. Or perhaps as if something had finally been settled.

She was so lost in her thoughts about her grief that she didn’t notice the sound of footfalls behind her until it was too late.

“Oh,” came a familiar voice, and she turned, startled completely out of her reverie. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest.

Edwin Jarvis stood in front of her in the dim kitchen, wearing his red robe over his pale blue pyjamas and looking at her as if she were some sort of apparition. Peggy let out a shaky breath, taken aback almost as much as he seemed to be.

“Mr. Jarvis!” she finally managed to get out.

“Ms. Carter?” he said, still apparently not quite sure if she was real. He was blinking blearily and didn’t appear to be completely awake yet. “So sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

“Not a problem,” she said, smiling to defuse the discomfort she was feeling. She knew this sort of accidental rendezvous had been inevitable. Three people living in one house were bound to happen upon each other eventually. But her heart was still hammering away, her pulse thrumming loudly in her ears.

“I apologise, Ms. Carter,” he said. “I was having trouble sleeping and I came to get a glass of—” His eyes strayed to the empty glass next to Peggy on the countertop. “—water. I see you must be in a similar predicament.”

“Your powers of observation are second to none,” she told him, with only a hint of sarcasm and a ghost of a smile on her lips. Truthfully, seeing him now made her realise just how much she had _missed_ him this past week.

She hadn’t gone more than a day or two without spending some amount of time with the man since she’d gotten to L.A., and it now had been seven days since she’d seen him last.

The sight of him was so familiar and comforting, she was nearly tempted to envelop him in her arms in a tight embrace. But she decided, considering the circumstances, she’d best not. Not to mention the fact that she imagined Mr. Jarvis would be absolutely scandalised by her impropriety.

“I feel as though I haven’t seen you in weeks,” he said, seemingly echoing her thoughts. He was fidgeting a little, yet made no attempt to step over to the cupboard and retrieve a glass to fill with his desired water.

“It has been a while,” she said, smiling. “I apologise, I’ve been quite busy as of late.”

He nodded. “Yes, I imagine you have.”

“Well,” she said, turning and depositing the glass in the sink, “I’d best be getting back to bed, Mr. Jarvis. It was nice to see you,” she smiled up at him. He smiled weakly back at her and she turned heel and began to set off toward her bedroom.

“Ms. Carter,” he said, stopping her in her tracks. Her pulse picked up again as she turned back toward him.

“Yes, Mr. Jarvis?” she asked, not really wanting to know the answer. There was a pit in her stomach now, and she fervently wished she hadn’t been so caught up in her thoughts earlier. If she’d been paying attention, she would have heard the sound of his footsteps, could have made a hasty escape and avoided this entire awkward encounter altogether.

“Is—” he started, then shook his head before starting again. “Are you quite alright?” he asked. Peggy frowned, and he took a breath. “It’s just that you look rather distressed right now, Ms. Carter, and I can’t shake the feeling that you’ve been avoiding contact with Ana and I since last weekend.”

She sighed, pursing her lips before giving him a rather forced smile that she was certain looked more like a grimace.

“I’m fine, Mr. Jarvis,” she said. “It’s just been a very busy week and I’ve been spending most of my time with Daniel, when I’m not at work. I wasn’t my intention to avoid you,” she lied, convincingly, she hoped.

He nodded, but his quivering bottom lip betrayed him. “Are you certain?” he asked, and she sighed. “I wondered if perhaps something might have happened that day by the pool to prompt your absence from Ana's and my company this week. You _did_ retire rather early that afternoon and I thought I may have noticed some discomfort on your behalf.” His eyes were boring into her now, the bright azure of them evident even in the gloom of Howard’s kitchen.

“Nothing happened,” she said, meeting his gaze. She couldn’t tell him, couldn’t bring herself to say the words knowing the effect they’d have. “Daniel and I have been spending a lot of time together and as well, we’ve been working hard to find whoever it was that shot Jack. There’s nothing more to it than that, I swear to you,” she finished. She gave him another grim smile. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d best get to bed or I’ll sleep all day tomorrow.” She turned from him again.

“Did my wife say something to you?” he asked, and she stopped cold this time, his words hitting her like a punch in the gut. She turned toward him so slowly she was certain she gave herself away right there.

“Why do you ask that, Mr. Jarvis?” she asked, breathlessly.

“It…it merely seemed to me that after Chief Sousa and I returned from the kitchen that there was some awkwardness between the two of you. I thought she might have said something,” he said. “And to be quite frank,” he started. He seemed to deflate somewhat, his shoulders sagging, as if something was weighing heavily on him. “Ana has been somewhat…distant since that day. Well, even more distant, if I may be honest with you. I’m worried about her, Ms. Carter. She hasn’t been herself, for quite…some time.”

Peggy sighed. Seeing her friend so distressed was tugging at her heartstrings. It was clear that Ana hadn’t been confiding in her husband as she had been confiding in Peggy.

“Well,” she began, softly, “she’s been through a very traumatic experience,” Peggy said, taking a few involuntary steps toward him. He looked so tired as the pale moonlight shone over his features that her voice and entire demeanour softened in spite of herself. She sighed, hesitant to speak, but finding herself unable to keep quiet. “You and I both know that events like that can affect people in many different ways. Trauma, Mr. Jarvis, is a curious thing. Ana believed she was going to die that day, and yet she didn’t.” Edwin was watching her as she spoke, the words obviously hitting home. “Perhaps you should speak to her about it?” He nodded, looking down.

“She hasn’t opened up to me about her difficulties, Ms. Carter,” he said. “I’ve asked, time and again, but she won’t confide in me. I believe she is under the impression that she'd be unnecessarily troubling me, that I have too much to deal with as it is.” He sighed deeply, looking up at her, and Peggy could see unshed tears in his eyes. “She _did_ say something to you, didn’t she, Ms. Carter?”

Peggy found herself nodding reluctantly. “Yes, she did, though I won’t say of what, Mr. Jarvis. It’s not my place. You’ll have to ask her yourself.” He nodded. “I believe Ana has been affected by her experience more acutely than she’s letting on, and it pains me to see her that way, if I may be frank.”

“You may,” he said. Edwin did not seem especially surprised at this admission. “And I understand; I suspected as much.” He looked rather distraught as he stood there, his head bowed, unkempt hair falling in his face.

Peggy sighed, and stepped forward to grasp his arm firmly. He looked over at her hand, and then up at her, his eyes hollow.

“Talk to your wife, Mr. Jarvis. She needs you right now.” She raised her eyebrows at him, and he nodded, slowly at first, then quicker.

“I will, Ms. Carter. Tomorrow. I promise.” Peggy smiled at him and dropped her hand from his arm. “Thank you,” he said.

“She is becoming as dear a friend to me as you or Howard,” Peggy explained, and he nodded. “You don’t have to thank me,” she said, giving him a genuine smile. A hesitant grin came to his lips, slowly, and Peggy welcomed the sight. It transformed his entire visage, and warmed her heart. He was relieved, and she couldn’t help but be glad she had been able to come to the aid of her friends.

She felt curiously light. First, the dream, and then finally confronting the issue that had been plaguing her most of the week had left her feeling rather reassured. She'd been so worried that Ana would cause a scene embarrassing both Peggy and Edwin, but now the two of the would talk it over themselves. She smiled again, relief flooding her.

But then she looked up to see Edwin Jarvis giving her _that_ look again, that piercing, breathtaking, soul-searching gaze that always gave her stomach a twinge, and the relief transformed into something like dread.

 _Perhaps Ana did have a point_ , said a voice Peggy couldn't silence. _When it came her husband, anyway._

She pushed the ludicrous thoughts of the exact nature of Edwin Jarvis’s feelings for her out of her head. It was much too late for this, or too early, as it were. She had to get back to bed.

“Right,” she said, “it’s been nice speaking with you, Mr. Jarvis. I truly have wanted for your presence these past few days.” A bright smile came to his face at this admission and Peggy could tell he’d missed their adventures almost as much as she had.

“As have I, Ms. Carter,” he said, “as I have I.” He smiled again, and Peggy leaned in to pat his shoulder. When she looked back up at him, he was frowning.

“Something wrong, Mr. Jarvis?” she asked, a little confused.

“Oh, yes,” he said, “it’s just that—does it smell of fish in here to you, too?” he asked.

Peggy _almost_ laughed. But then, she sniffed herself surreptitiously and groaned.

“I’m going to take a bath,” she said,  _sotto voce_ , backing away from the butler slowly, and leaving him in a state of utter bewilderment. “Good night again, Mr. Jarvis!” She turned, then, and disappeared down the corridor.

“Good night!” she heard him say, a few seconds later, sounding confused, and she smiled.

Ψ

Edwin Jarvis returned to bed that night feeling quite a bit better than he had when he’d awoke. He’d found that the simple act of voicing his concerns to another person had taken some of the weight off his shoulders, even if the person in question had confirmed his suspicions that something was indeed amiss.

It had been _unbearably_ lonely this past week, if he was honest with himself. Ms. Carter had been spending most of her time with Daniel Sousa, which was not entirely surprising considering their romance was still very new.

But Edwin found himself bothered by her absence nonetheless. It was not that long ago that she would come to him every morning, asking for a lift to work or help on a mission. And now she slipped out without a word every morning. It would seem that Chief Sousa filled the role of chauffeur now, among _other_ things.

As well, Ana had been out of the house nearly every day this week, too, tending to this errand or to that, and working at the shop. She often left him, befuddled, with only a perfunctory peck on the cheek instead of her usual embarrassingly gratuitous goodbye snog. He rather missed the embarrassment, now.

And Howard was away, as per usual, either scouting locations for his next picture or chasing after some new power source in the African jungle. Edwin couldn’t remember which. Not that it truly mattered. Howard was incommunicado.

And that left Mr. Jarvis, so used to be surrounded by fun and engaging people, alone in a house that wasn’t even his own, washing linens and dusting end tables, clearing leaves from the pool and wrangling that vexingly incorrigible flamingo back into his enclosure each and every time he escaped.

He found it so much less enjoyable without Ana there to watch, entertained by the antics of her husband and his bright pink foe.

She was keeping her distance from him, both emotionally and physically. He knew something was distressing her even before Ms. Carter’s revelation, but Edwin Jarvis had never been particularly good at reading women, least of all his wife. Oh, they talked, certainly, about their days and their jobs and the tedium of day-to-day life. And they talked about Ms. Carter.

But he also knew that there were things she would never tell him, things he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Things she’d seen, experienced. The realities of being a Hungarian Jew in the advent of the Second World War.

He supposed that made him a coward, for weren’t husbands and wives supposed to share everything? Every hope and dream and fear, their pasts and their plans for the future? In truth, he simply didn’t want to upset her. He reckoned that she’d confide in him in time. But they’d been married for years now, and still he knew very little of her life before him.

As he settled back down into bed next to his wife, who was, unsurprisingly, sleeping on her side facing the wall instead of him, a wave of terrible guilt washed over him. Something was troubling his wife and he’d been too hell-bent on getting revenge first, and then later too busy helping out Ms. Carter to notice.

He lay there facing his wife’s back, terribly tempted to reach out and touch her flame-red hair, which he knew was as soft as spun silk. He wanted to pull her back against him, wrap her in his warmth and keep her safe from whatever was plaguing her.

But he knew that would solve nothing. Ana wanted her space, and he respected her almost as much as he loved her, so he would give it to her. But come tomorrow he would speak to her.

He would be a coward no more, even if the ignorance was preferable. As Ms. Carter had aptly pointed out, Ana needed him to step up to the plate, as it were, and let her know that while he may not be the most attentive and intuitive husband, he still cared. Deeply and truly.

He gave a weary sigh as exhaustion began to overtake him once again. He would talk to Ana in the morning, they’d get it sorted, all of it, and life could go back to the way it was before. It had to. Everything would be better.

Edwin Jarvis had no idea how wrong he was about to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took so long to update! Was busy with working on an election campaign, and then was busy working my last few days since we lost the election campaign, lol. It's been a wild ride, but I love this story so much, and I love all you Carvis shippers out there (though you may be small in number, you make up with it in enthusiasm!) so much that I am totally committed to finishing this. Especially since some distressing rumours have come out in the last few days. But I hope you all enjoyed it! -Katie


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the news yesterday, I got the motivation to quickly write the next chapter. I'm really happy with it and I hope it is a nice distraction for all you AC fans!!

Peggy woke the next morning at the admittedly late hour of half-past eleven. However, she could not muster up even one whit of guilt about it, because despite her late-night rendezvous in the kitchen with Mr. Jarvis, she felt rested for the first time that week.

Or, perhaps that was _why_ she felt so rested. The issue that had been keeping her from Howard’s villa and from associating with her closest friends would be put to bed, finally. Edwin would speak with his wife and they’d resolve their issues, as they always did, and she would have a late breakfast, stop by the office to assure it was still operational, and then pick up Daniel from his sojourn to San Francisco.

She smiled, relishing in the feel of the comfortable bed beneath her body. Cocooned in the expensive sheets and plush mattress, she wished fervently that she could just stay here all day, resting and reading and dozing.

But late-morning sun was streaming in through the crack in the curtains, bright and hot, a whole office full of agents needed guidance, and she knew she had best get up and start her day.

Clad in her dressing gown and slippers once again, she entered the kitchen to find it, surprisingly, empty. She checked the parlour, the study, the dining room and the pool area, but no one answered her calls.

Shrugging, she strode back to the kitchen and prepared herself a rudimentary breakfast of eggs and toast, then went back to her quarters to get dressed and ready.

When she walked out to the parlour to call a taxi, the door opened and Edwin Jarvis entered, carrying the very same tranquiliser rifle he’d fallen victim to in their attempt to subdue the Chadwicks’ security man several weeks ago.

“Mr. Jarvis!” she let out, slightly startled to find him home.

“Oh, Ms. Carter,” he said, smiling at her. He was holding the rifle against his chest with both hands, looking like some sort of upper-class suburban guerilla, and Peggy couldn’t help but grin at the sight of him. “I’m sorry, I was just…”

“The koala?” she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. He nodded, a regretful expression on his face. Peggy winced.

“I’m afraid so,” he said, dropping the rifle into its case on the sofa and closing the lid rather forcefully. “Between him and that bloody flamingo I’m just about done with Mr. Stark’s menagerie. As soon as he gets home, he and I are going to have a _stern_ talk about hiring someone _else_ to care for it full-time.” Peggy tried not to laugh.

“Have you and Howard _ever_ had a ‘stern talk’, Mr. Jarvis?” she asked. He half-shrugged, his mouth twitching a few times. Peggy smiled.

“Well,” he finally got out, “not as such. But I have _had it_ , Ms. Carter. If it’s not one, it’s the other. And now the zebras have started acting up as well! And they’ve never given me trouble before,” he finished, his face flushed and a few strands of his hair falling loose. Peggy fought the curious urge to step forward and brush them back into place before coming to her senses once again.

“Harold has _zebras_?” she asked, as he picked up the rifle case and stored it in a nearby cupboard.

“I’m afraid so. Among several other more docile animals, thankfully. Although last time we spoke, he brought up the possibility of a lion, and I unfortunately had to pretend that the telephone line had gone down and I could no longer hear him. It’s the only time I’ve ever hung up on him.”

“Mr. Jarvis,” she said, shaking her head. “You need to stand up to Howard once in a while! You once told me he didn’t own your integrity, did you not?” Edwin responded with something between a nod and a shrug. “Well he doesn’t own your autonomy, either. You know how he can be sometimes. You can’t be catering to his every bloody whim! He needs someone to keep him in line, even if he does pay your salary.”

“I suppose,” he answered, a smile coming to his face. “I will be more assertive with him next time, Ms. Carter. I promise.”

“Good,” she said, nodding and smiling back. Then she remembered their talk earlier that morning. “So how did it go?” she asked him.

“How did what go, Ms. Carter?”

“You were going to speak with Ana,” she said. “I seem to remember you promising me that, as well.”

“Well, unfortunately,” he said, “it would appear that my wife slept much better than I did, as when I awoke, she was already gone,” he said, a bit sadly. “She left a note, said she’d be back in the afternoon, so I still intend to keep that promise, Ms. Carter.”

“Lovely, Mr. Jarvis,” she said. “Now if you’re finished wrangling exotic specimens for now, do you think I could trouble you with a ride to the Auerbach Talent Agency? There is work to be done even on a Sunday, I’m afraid.”

The wide smile that bloomed on Edwin Jarvis’s face at her inquiry gave her a funny little twinge somewhere near her navel. She’d not seen him that happy in a very long time, not since she’d decided to stay in Los Angeles a few weeks ago. She found herself helpless to surrender to his delight, and soon she was grinning madly back at him.

“I would be absolutely delighted to, Ms. Carter,” he said, brushing the few blades of grass off of his suit, and the tendrils of hair back into place. “Follow me,” he said, the stodgy English butler once again.

Still unable to keep the smile off her face, and realising truly just how much she’d missed this, Peggy Carter complied.

Ψ

Mr. Jarvis arrived home an hour later with a spring in his step, feeling like himself again for the first time in days. He checked on the animals (still safely inside enclosure, although Bernard seemed to be eyeing him malevolently) and entered the house, still unable to keep the smile off his face.

He was so thrilled that he and Ms. Carter were on back on friendly terms. It had been a very trying week without her around, and he found that even spending a mere half hour with Peggy had lifted his spirits immensely. He truly did enjoy their repartee, the way the their quips just bounced back and forth easily, leaving both of them amused and energised no matter what they were speaking about.

She was a lot of fun, Ms. Carter was. She amused him, impressed him, challenged him, aggravated him. Sometimes all at once. He truly felt like an equal when she allowed him to accompany her on missions, even if she was still very hesitant to give him a weapon, despite his obvious competency with them (the tranquiliser gun fiasco notwithstanding, of course. How could he have possibly known that the man would have the constitution of a full-grown hippopotamus?).

He noticed Ms. Carter’s breakfast dishes in the sink and set to do the washing up, humming the last tune he’d heard in the car before arriving home, when the door opened and his wife entered. Ana Jarvis was carrying a few bags and, was, judging by her expression, very surprised to see him.

“Edwin!” she said, setting down her effects on the floor.

“Darling!” he said, genuinely happy to see her. “You’re home!” He dried his hands on a dishtowel and took a few hesitant steps toward her. She looked well-rested, though he could see faint dark circles under her eyes. She smiled at him, and he took the last few steps toward her and enveloped her in a tight embrace.

She didn’t resist him, and when he felt her strong, thin arms circle his back he sighed contentedly. It felt so good to hold her again. He rubbed her back gently, wishing her could simply soothe away all that plagued her. But in the real world troubles simply couldn’t be solved by a hug or a kiss, unfortunately.

Ana pulled away after a few seconds, and her smiled down at her, looking down into the watery blue eyes he’d missed so much.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages,” he said, softly, and she sighed, nodding slowly.

“I know,” she said, and he reached up to cup her cheek. “I’m sorry, darling.” She leaned into his touch, her eyes closing for a fraction of a second. He dropped his hand from her face.

“I’ve been worried about you,” he said, taking a steeling breath.

“You worry too much, Edwin,” she said, smiling.

“I’m afraid I can’t help it,” he said. She laughed, softly. “What say I cook you dinner tonight? Whatever you want. And a soufflé for pudding if you so wish.”

Ana smiled, genuinely, and grasped his right bicep. “I don’t deserve you,” she said, almost wistfully, and he couldn’t help the frown that creased his brow.

“Don’t be silly, darling, of course you do,” he said. He searched the depths of her blue eyes but she wasn’t giving anything away. “Now, Ms. Carter will be out of the house for several hours, as Chief Sousa’s flight arrives at seven o’clock, and assuming Howard doesn’t return early from wherever he is right now, we can have the whole house to ourselves tonight. Dinner, dancing, a moonlight swim?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows. Ana laughed, seemingly in spite of herself.

“Sounds lovely,” she said, and he nodded. “You spoke to Ms. Carter?” she asked, letting go of his arm.

“Yes, I did, actually,” he said, turning to go put away the dishes he’d just washed. “She happened upon me as I was returning from…corralling the koala, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, Edwin,” Ana lamented, picking up a few of her bags and placing them on the counter. “When are you going to tell Howard that his animal preserve requires a much more qualified hand to manage it?”

“I promised Ms. Carter that I would be…I believe the word was ‘assertive’ with Mr. Stark the next time we spoke,” he said, as Ana turned and began unpacking the groceries she’d bought. “It would seem she has the same concerns as you,” he said.

“Is that right?” Ana asked, her voice sounding far away. He twisted around to look at her, but her back was turned as she deposited a rather large pineapple into the fruit bowl. He couldn’t help the furrow between his brows that appeared again.

“Darling?” he asked. Finished with the dishes now, and leaned back against the refrigerator, watching her as she worked.

“Yes, dear?” she said. She didn’t turn to him.

Edwin watched as she emptied the remaining items from the bags and put them away in the cupboard, licking his lips nervously. He didn’t know what to say, how to start. _Oh, what a coward he was_. Too weak to actually address the elephant in the room, lest it ruffle some feathers. More content to go on pretending like nothing was wrong.

After some time, Ana turned to him, her blue eyes wide and beseeching. He watched her with a pit in his stomach.

“Edwin?” she asked, taking a few hesitant steps toward him. He heaved a sighed and looked her in the eye.

“You’ve been avoiding me, Ana,” he finally said, his voice low and quiet. His heart was beating wildly in his chest. “All week, and before that, too,” he finished, taking a deep breath. Ana was watching him almost sadly, and he could see her shoulders sag slightly. Her actions filled him with inexplicable dread.

“I didn’t intend to, Edwin,” she said. “I’ve been busy this week.” He frowned again, noting the similarity of her excuse to Ms. Carter’s, which had turned out to be a well-meaning lie.

“What has kept you so busy that you missed supper nearly every night this week?” he asked, a little louder than he’d intended, and he saw the flicker of hurt in her eyes. He sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. “I’m sorry,” he started again, “I’m not angry with you, my love. I’m worried about you. You don’t talk to me anymore, Ana.”

His wife sighed and glanced out the window. “Edwin,” she said, turning back to look at him with sad eyes. “Let’s talk about it after dinner, please.”

He sighed, heavily, finding himself nodding. It was already half-past four and he was beginning to get a bit peckish. No sense having their discussion on empty stomachs.

“I’ll start supper,” he said, and she nodded. She picked up the remaining bags near the door and started in the direction of their quarters.

Dinner was a subdued affair, although, looking back, Edwin Jarvis treasured the memory. They reminisced about old times, their first few meals as husband and wife. Ana’s struggles with learning the language. It was quite nice. And the soufflé, Edwin had to admit, was one of the best he’d ever baked.

But as they cleared the dishes from the table, Ana sighed wearily.

“This was lovely, Edwin,” she said. “Thank you.”

“You never have to thank me, darling,” he said, placing the dishes in the sink. “I love cooking for you.”

She smiled, nodding, and he paused.

“Darling,” he said, stepping toward her, “please. Talk to me.”

“You don’t want to hear it—”

“Oh, but I do, Ana, I do,” he said. “Your happiness means more to me than anything in the world.” Her eyes were searching his face, looking for something. Finally, she looked away, and sighed.

“If you want to talk now, we will talk. But you have to promise me, Edwin, to please, just listen. I can’t promise you’re going to like what I have to say,” she said, and he felt his stomach lurch. There was no anger in her voice, no pettiness. She was strangely calm, and it terrified him. She turned from him and walked toward the parlour. He could only follow, his heart hammering away in his chest.

He sat down in an armchair as she took the sofa across from him.

“Darling, what is troubling you?” he asked, leaning forward and trying to catch her eye.

“That’s just it, Edwin,” she said. “I’m not troubled. I feel I am finally seeing things for how they truly are.”

“Ana, what do you mean?”

“Life is very short,” she started. “I hadn’t realised how short until Whitney Frost nearly took mine from me.” She took a deep, unsteady breath and looked up into his eyes. “Edwin, have you ever truly thought you were going to die?”

“No,” he said, after a few seconds, shaking his head slowly.

“When I saw Dr. Wilkes being carried away, I knew I had to intervene. I made that choice. But I didn’t know Ms. Frost would do what she did. I didn’t even understand what had happened until I looked down and saw the blood,” she said, shaking her head. “I heard the car drive away, I felt you lift me up and then I heard Ms. Carter speaking. And then there was nothing, Edwin,” she said, looking up at him with eyes that threatened tears. “In those last moments, I made my peace. I accepted death.”

“But you didn’t die,” he supplied, and she shook her head.

“No,” she said, her lips slowly curling in a smile. “I woke up to hear your voice,” she said. He smiled back at her. “And I was so happy to be given another chance.”

“So what is the problem, darling?”

“Everything changed, Edwin,” she said, softly. “The way I saw the world. Suddenly things that mattered before didn’t matter anymore to me. All those things that I’d coveted for so long. Expensive clothes and jewelry, all of the vanity of this city. Now it seemed so silly.” She looked up at him, and he nodded. He understood. “And then I realised that there was so much I had always wanted to do, but I had never gotten around to it. Millions of Jews died in the war. Members of my family died, my friends. My people died in horrible, horrible conditions. And I spend my time working in a clothing shop and relaxing around the pool.” He gave her hand a squeeze, shaking his head.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, after a time. “I can’t possibly begin to understand how difficult this is for you, darling. But it doesn’t mean you have to punish yourself. You deserve this life, as much as anyone.”

“Perhaps,” she said, quietly. “But there is so much more I can be doing, Edwin. I need to go back to Budapest, to see what is left, who is left.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?”

“It’s what I have to do, Edwin,” she said. “I left them. All of them, don’t you see?”

He nodded. “I do,” he said. “We can leave as soon as Howard returns.” Ana smiled at this, reaching forward for his hand.

“I appreciate the offer, darling, but I believe it’s something I need to do alone.”

“Are you quite sure?” he asked.

“I am,” she said. “There are a lot of things that I will be needing to do on my own once I get back. I met with some charities this week that help refugees from the war. There are so many people that still need help, Edwin. It’s what I want to do with my life. It will give me purpose again.”

“Darling, what are you saying?” he asked, dread settling in his gut once again. Something about the way she was looking at him, with resignation, almost, was scaring him. “Why can’t we do those things together?”

Ana sighed, and looked down at their joined hands. She fingered his gold band almost sadly before she looked back up at him.

“Do you remember our promise to each other, Edwin? Back in Budapest all those years ago?”

He nodded. “I do,” he said. “Your English wasn’t as good as it is now,” he said, and they both shared a smile. “But I do remember ‘men and women make promises in wartime that were never meant to be kept.’” He sighed, remembering how new their love had felt. How much hope there was. “You said you’d marry me, but only if I promised that we’d never stay together simply for fear of being alone. We had to be happy.”

Ana nodded. “You saved me, Edwin,” she said. “And I will forever be in your debt.” He started to shake his head before she’d even finished the sentence.

“Darling, no,” he said, squeezing her hand tightly. “You don’t owe me anything. I saved you because I loved you and I still love you.” Tears were threatening to fall. He felt as though he couldn’t breathe. This conversation was getting away from him and he couldn’t stop it. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“Edwin,” she started, and the single tear that escaped her right eye and slipped down her cheek sent cold tendrils of fear down his spine. “As I recovered from my injury, I realised something. Something I had not seen before. But now I saw it very clearly. It didn’t upset me, but that is when I knew. I knew we’d broken our promise,” she said, and his heart pitched in his chest.

“Ana, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, trying to keep the edge of panic out of his voice, “I truly don’t. We haven’t broken it. _I love you_ and I want to be with you.”

Anna looked at him. She was searching his face again, looking into his eyes, trying to discern something from him. He hadn’t the faintest idea what.

“You don’t realise it, do you?” she asked, wonderment and surprise in her tone. She looked down and shook her head in disbelief. “Both of you are so clever, yet you do not see,” she said.

“What do you mean, both of us, Ana?”

“You and Ms. Carter,” she started, as innocently as a child, and that’s when it hit him. What she was talking about. What this was all about.

“What did you say to her, Ana?” he asked, his voice rising as the panic did. “What did you do?”

“Oh, Edwin, relax,” she said, “please. We had a conversation, I asked her a question.”

“What? What did you ask her?”

“I asked her about Daniel Sousa,” she said, and Edwin frowned. “If she truly loved him.”

“And what did she say?”

“She told me she was sure she _could_ love him,” Ana replied. “But I knew she never would.”

“But why does that matter?”

“Because, Edwin! How can she be happy if she doesn’t love him? Don’t you see?” she said, the first hint of impatience creeping into her voice. “She is enjoying herself now. But Daniel worships her more than he loves her. As a man he is better than most, but he treats her as one treats a child. He doesn’t respect her. He doesn’t even trust her, Edwin! How can it last?”

“Ana, how could you possibly know that?”

“Because, Edwin, it is similar to how you have come to see me,” she said, and it was like a sock to his gut.

“That is _not_ true!” he said, finding that _he_ was crying now, but that he couldn’t be bothered to care. “Ana I _love_ you,” he said, his eyes imploring her to see it was the truth.

“I know, darling,” she said, but her words only managed to frustrate him. “But you don’t _know_ me. You have put me up on a pedestal. And sometimes I am so afraid to disappoint you! I am afraid that you will see I am not this perfect creature that you have come to worship,” she said. “Sometimes I think of the girl I was, back in Hungary. All the hopes and dreams I had. And I am so far from her. I don’t know her anymore. _You_ don’t know her at all.”

“But I want to, Ana, I do!” he pleaded. “I’ve wanted to know about your life before. I only know bits and pieces from what you’ve told me, but I’ve always wanted to ask. I thought it too painful for you to talk about. I was waiting for you to feel comfortable to tell me about it. I was a coward, as ever.”

“You’re not a coward, Edwin,” she said, smiling at him genuinely. “You’re one of the bravest men I know,” she said, her voice breaking.

“Aren’t you happy, Ana? With me?”

“This life is all I know, Edwin. I was happy, for a long time. Then she came into your life and you changed. And I knew that as long as she was here, I would be holding _you_ back from true happiness,” she said.

“You don’t mean Ms. Carter?”

“I do,” she said, and he couldn’t stop shaking his head.

“Ana, no!” he cried, frustration and fear getting the better of him. “That’s not how it is. Ms. Carter is my friend. One of my only true friends, other than Howard. That is all.”

“That’s what she said to me,” Ana supplied and he suddenly couldn’t breathe.

“What else did you say to her, Ana? She was so embarrassed that she avoided the both of us all week!”

“I simply asked her if things had been different, if she would have pursued a relationship with you,” she said.

“Why? Why would you ask her that?”

“Because I see how you look at each other, Edwin!” Ana returned, an edge to her voice, now. “I see how happy you are whenever she’s around. Whatever she asks you to do, you do it. You tend to her wounds, you chauffeur her wherever she wants to go. You risk your life for her without even a second thought. And yet you still don’t see?”

He could scarcely breathe. Ana didn’t—couldn’t understand. How could she not see how wrong she was?

“She has brought adventure back into my life, Ana, given me a chance to be something other than Howard Stark’s yes-man. That’s what I love, the fact that I feel I have purpose when I’m with her. She is a friend and a partner, but that is all,” he said.

“Friendship is the foundation of all the best relationships, Edwin. You and I were never friends. Lovers, yes, husband and wife, of course. But not friends. Friends know all each other’s secrets, they laugh and they cry and they know each other inside and out. You two are more suited to each other than you and I ever were,” she said, and he could only shake his head at her. “Darling,” she said, reaching forward to grasp his shoulder, “it’s nothing to be upset about. Our lives are going in different directions. I need to see if I can make it on my own. I need to be that girl I was back in Hungary. And you need to be with Peggy Carter, Edwin. She needs you, too. Life is too short to be unhappy.”

“But I’m happy with _you_!” he heard himself say, and he hated the desperation in his voice.

“No,” she said, with a hint of sadness that hadn’t been there before, “you’re content with me, Edwin. We have become complacent. But I think you will see that if you take a risk, the reward can be more than you imagine. It won’t be easy. But I love you, Edwin Jarvis,” she said, bringing his hand up to her lips and kissing it softly. “And your happiness means everything to me.”

And with that, she stood, gently let his hand go, then turned and started to walk away.

“Ana, please,” he said. He felt ill, like he was going to be sick all over Howard’s precious mohair sofa.

“I need some time, Edwin,” she said. “I need to be alone.”

“But where will you go?”

“I’ll spend the night in Howard’s room tonight,” she said. “We can talk again tomorrow, Edwin, and then I will stay in the penthouse for the time being. Mr. Stark always said I could use it if I ever needed it.”

She looked over at him, the sadness in the room almost palpable. Then, she quickly strode back toward him and flung herself into his arms. He held onto her for dear life, sobbing inconsolably into her soft red hair. He heard her crying as well, before she pulled away slightly to look up at him.

“I’m sorry, Edwin,” she said. He dipped his head and kissed her on the lips more roughly than he’d intended, but he could not help it. Finally, he lifted his head and gazed down into her eyes. She smiled, weakly, and he saw something there he hadn’t seen in a long time. There was relief, but most of all she looked _happy._ He couldn’t help but smile and nod at her, and then she pulled away from him, turned and walked in the direction of Howard’s bedroom.

He watched his wife go, the woman he’d saved all those years ago, curious to find there was no anger there. Only the deepest sadness and regret. And hope, that she’d come to her senses.

But he knew better. He wasn’t an idiot. And neither was Ana.

He sat down on the sofa, which, really was quite comfortable (Howard had chosen well). He must have sat there for close to an hour, for it was dark before he rose from his perch. He felt broken, empty.

A heavy weight pushed down on him, squeezed his chest so that he could scarcely breathe. He sighed, raggedly, and went upstairs. His bed—their bed waited for him. He changed into his pajamas automatically, not thinking about what he was doing at all, and slipped beneath the sheets. Ana’s pillow still smelled of her, and he held it to his chest, the tears starting up again.

But, then, after a few minutes, they stopped. He sighed. He was scared, mournful, heartbroken. But tomorrow would be a new day. And he would do whatever would make Ana happy again. It was all he’d ever wanted for her.


	5. Chapter 5

If Edwin Jarvis had had worse mornings, he couldn’t quite remember when. Not since he left England. Not since the war.

His head ached, his eyes felt like they had sand in them, and, worst of all, his heart was entirely broken. He felt empty, numb. Like half the man he’d been the day before.

He’d awoken to two seconds of blissful oblivion before the absence of his wife beside him reminded him: she had spent the night in Howard’s quarters last night. And further to that, she was planning to vacate the home they’d shared for the past several months and take up residence in Howard’s Hollywood penthouse apartment, he assumed, until she could find a place of her own.

He rolled over in bed, looking out the window at the melancholy blue dawn light. It was still early, not long before he usually rose to start his day. But he had no ambition to rise out of bed, or to begin his day.

He felt like a pale imitation of himself. Ana was leaving him. What was he to do? He felt a weak urge to get up—no more than simple muscle memory, probably, as he often rose around this time—and to go after his wife, convince her that she was mad, and that she simply had to stay.

But Ana was not mad. She was an intelligent, sensitive woman who knew her own mind. In fact, it was why he’d fallen for her in the first place. She hadn’t been like all the other insipid, timid young girls who let men dictate to them, always following orders and afraid to ruffle any feathers.

She’d been self-confident and prepossessing and she spoke her mind. He’d fallen for her the moment they met.

But she’d been correct the night before. He’d never dug deeper into her past. Her parents and her siblings had survived the war, Howard had seen to securing their safety, but apart from them…he had no idea. What about her friends, aunts and uncles, cousins? He’d never asked.

And now it was too late.

He’d only been trying to do the right thing by rescuing her. Well, he supposed there had been some selfishness on his part. He’d wanted her to be his wife. He wanted to take her away from whatever ignominious fate Hitler and his National Socialists had in store for her.

But he’d never taken the time to think about what he’d taken away _from her_. She’d been whisked off to another country by a man she’d only just met, taken away from everything she’d ever known. He’d saved her from almost certain death, yes. But he’d never asked her if their life was what she’d wanted. If living in Howard’s mansion and putting up with the man’s eccentricities and debaucheries was at all what she’d pictured life would be like for them.

And if he did have her up on a pedestal, it was only because she was so faultless to him, in every way. So perfect. But, then how was that fair to her? To inadvertently hold someone to such a high standard?

Ana’d been right. He _didn’t_ know her. He preferred the pretty, feisty, self-sufficient redhead that lavished him with affection and put up with his occasional neuroses. He hadn’t asked her about _her_ desires, hadn’t asked her if _she_ was happy or not.

No, instead he was content with her ethereal beauty and ever-present good mood, how she was always the gracious host and a fairly good cook. He’d rarely seen her as anything else than perfect, and, truthfully, he hadn’t wanted to. The thought made him sick. Had he been the architect of this particular downfall?

And, of course, ever since Peggy had come onto the scene, he’d become rather distracted. He’d admittedly been more concerned where the next adventure could be found than with his own wife’s needs. And while Ana approved of their exploits, simply happy to see him enjoying himself again, those exploits had nearly cost her her life.

He couldn’t deny the fact that she wouldn’t’ve been shot if he’d stayed home with his visibly apprehensive wife instead of walking into an obvious trap with Ms. Carter to retrieve a murderous Russian spy, of all bloody things.

He shook his head, a hand going to his mouth to stifle the sobs that bubbled up. The guilt was gnawing at him now, tears of shame and regret coming to his eyes unbidden. He shoved his face into his wife’s pillow and did what he hadn’t done since Ana’s shooting—he had a good, long cry. He cried until he had no more tears left, until his throat was sore and his nose ran and his eyes burned.

Ψ

Peggy Carter couldn’t shake the sense of unease she had no matter how much she tried. She tried to distract herself with the surveillance photos that’d just come in of a woman matching Dottie’s description, but after ten minutes she’d given up.

Dottie Underwood wasn’t in L.A., or New York, or even the U.S. for that matter. If she was smart, and she was that, she’d have caught the first ship or plane back to Europe as soon as she’d shot Agent Thompson (Peggy was entirely certain that it’d been her, by now. She just knew it in her gut.) She got what she wanted, for whatever reason, and now she would be laying low, engineering her next dastardly scheme.

They weren’t going to find her hobnobbing with Hollywood stars or attending a Broadway show in Midtown. The woman was gone. And unless a credible tip came in from any of their sister organizations in Europe, Peggy wouldn’t be allowed to fly overseas and look for the woman. There was just no way that kind of travel expense would be approved, not even if Peggy tried working her feminine wiles on Daniel. He had people to answer to, as well.

She leaned back in her chair, unable to resist putting her feet up on her desk, and picked up her pencil, twirling it restlessly in her hands. She hated feeling like this; discontent, anxious. Things were supposed to be looking up after the hellish week she’d just had.

But she supposed that Daniel’s mood the night before and the dark circles under his eyes had been the first harbinger of doom. He’d been distracted as they drove back toward his house, tired and a tad irritable, so she’d only stayed long enough to get him settled before leaving him to his own devices with the instructions to get some sleep. He’d had the good sense to look a little sheepish as she kissed him good night and slipped out the door, but it had disappointed her nonetheless.

She’d arrived by cab back at Howard’s compound at some time before 9 o’clock, only to find the house seemingly deserted and the Jarvises’ supper dishes still on the table. It unnerved her to see a mess like this, as it was so unlike Edwin to leave even a crumb out of place.

She’d called their names, gone up the stairs to their quarters and called again, but no one answered her calls. There were no lights left on, no vehicles missing from the forecourt. Not willing to intrude on her housemates’ privacy, she’d supposed that they’d gone to bed early after reconciling and that they’d been so eager to consummate this reunion, that the washing up had fallen to the wayside. Yet it still niggled at her as she lay awake in bed, waiting for sleep to claim her.

Something was off. She could feel it in her gut.

So, when she woke the next morning, dressed and exited her room to find those same dishes still adorning the dining table like the macabre indication of someone’s last meal, the feeling intensified.

She had begun to become worried, now. Edwin should have been up at that hour, shuffling about the house dusting this and that and asking her if she’d like a lift to work. And yet he still hadn’t washed their dinner dishes from the night before.

She walked all over the considerable estate, calling and knocking and looking for evidence of life, but she could find none. She was about to consider calling the police when she heard a car horn honk in the driveway—Daniel was here to drive her to work, a special treat he’d promised after his mood the night before.

So she’d left the home, hoping that the Jarvises had decided to take an impromptu holiday, or were perhaps nursing a pair of rather agonising hangovers after imbibing too much wine with dinner, and she’d gotten in the car, doing her best to appear incredibly unaffected to Daniel as she sat down next to him.

That had been hours ago. She’d called the house three times since. The first time the maid had picked up, and was currently in the process of washing the dishes left on the table, and no she hadn’t seen the Jarvises, but she was fairly certain they were in, simply still in bed. Peggy had ended that call with a huff.

The two subsequent calls to the Stark mansion had gone unanswered, adding to the pit that was forming in her stomach.

She tapped the pencil lightly against her chin, ignoring the stares from a few of her colleagues. She was worried about them. And sure, there were still a few hours to go until lunch, and many people slept this late from time to time. She wasn’t going to call the cops because Ana and Edwin were having a lie-in.

But, she supposed, on the other hand, Howard’s home had been infiltrated before by unsavoury characters, and someone who knew how much both Jarvises meant to Howard could surely kidnap them and attempt ransom their release. That was, if they could contact Howard, or even ascertain his current whereabouts.

 _Ugh._ _That lout._

Peggy shook her head. So much of what had been troubling her could have been dealt with if only Howard were here. If only to lend an ear, to give her some advice. But, no, of course. He had better things to do. He so often did.

She sighed, glancing over at Daniel behind the glass of his office window. He looked completely unperturbed as he scoured over some paperwork. _Of course he did,_ Peggy thought.

And that brought her to the second thing that was bothering her.

The situation with the Jarvises had been troubling her for weeks now, yet, she hadn’t brought it to Daniel’s attention at all. Truthfully, she had hoped the whole thing would blow over, and she wouldn’t have to tell anyone about the situation whatsoever.

But things hadn’t ‘blown over’. Ana’s words to her had evidently been the symptom of a deeper problem and she had spent the better part of the week agonising over what to do about the situation.

But for some reason she hadn’t been able to talk to Daniel about it. She couldn’t. Something in her gut had told her to keep it to herself.

She hadn’t really wanted to think about why, lest she actually have to spend time in self-reflection. Though as she sat there, bored and frustrated and really needing someone to talk to, she started to think about Daniel’s behaviour since he’d come to L.A. and had been made Chief.

She’d come here expecting the same modest, reticent man. The man who did the right thing above all else—risking life and limb on a regular basis as long as the streets remained safe.

But she’d come to find someone very different indeed had taken Daniel’s place. At first, she’d been happy for him. He seemed more confident, more assertive. But soon she saw the other side of him, the prickly demeanour, the patronising way he’d doubted Rose’s abilities. The way he couldn’t trust her to know her own limitations.

She’d called him on it, comparing him to Jack (that had done the trick), but it still left her feeling somewhat disheartened.

She missed the respectful, dutiful friend she’d had in New York. She had admired and liked _that_ Daniel Sousa, had thought that perhaps with _that_ Daniel Sousa, there might be a future.

But, when she thought about it quite honestly, that Daniel Sousa often took a backseat to the one who’d been too preoccupied and tense the night before to even thank her for fetching him at the airport.

And then there was the incident with Violet. She’d been too caught up in chasing after Whitney Frost and trying not to die from the traumatic wound to her torso to realise the gravity of it until later.

A few months later, actually, a few tender days into their newfound relationship, when she’d spotted the pretty young nurse one afternoon as Mr. Jarvis drove her home from work.

She’d only caught a glimpse, but it had taken her right out of her conversation with Jarvis, upset her so much that he’d asked her if she’d seen a ghost. Violet had been alone, a paper sack of groceries clutched in one arm as she stepped down the sunny sidewalk.

But she’d looked sad, and tired, and although imbued with the resilience of youth, it had brought everything back for Peggy. Finding out of Daniel’s engagement, feeling completely unentitled to the pang of despair the news had brought her. And then, Jason Wilkes and her eventful night out with him, a balm to assuage the disappointment she’d felt.

And then there was the night a piece of rebar pierced her side.

She’d been in too much pain and too hell-bent on catching Frost to think critically at the time about the events that had transpired. The way Daniel had acted when she’d been injured, and right in front of Violet, too. What had he expected from his fiancé, acting the way he did, no matter how he felt about Peggy? He’d been totally in shock, barely able to even listen to a simple instruction.

Guilt gnawed at her as she remembered that night. Violet and Daniel had split because of _her._ And while being engaged to a man purportedly in love with another woman wasn’t exactly a fate she wished on anyone, she still felt awful about the way everything had transpired.

She still remembered how _happy_ Daniel had seemed on announcing his engagement, and how he and Violet had both seemed quite smitten with each other, even to Peggy’s discerning eye.

But then mere days after proposing marriage to her, Daniel had shown his hand to Violet, plainly demonstrating his feelings for Peggy to her. His young nurse had seen right through him, breaking off the engagement. And then, Daniel had told Peggy of this in the middle of a mission—with Jarvis listening in, no less—and she’d been stupid enough, or desperate enough, or lonely enough, to attempt to kiss a man who’d been engaged to someone else a mere day before. And if not for their macabre interruption, she very nearly would have been successful.

To be fair, she really hadn’t been thinking clearly. She was under extreme amounts of stress and dealing with an injury that, really, should have at least given her pause if she’d even stopped to think about it. She’d missed certain death by inches, according to Violet. But she hadn’t really given it any thought. She’d plunged headlong into a dangerous enterprise, releasing a known murderer and Russian spy from prison and using her in a scheme to save the life of another one of her beaux.

It really was a wonder she’d gotten out of it all alive.

She sighed, gazing down at the cold dregs of her coffee. Making a face, she still couldn’t bring herself to rise and get a fresh cup. The pit in her stomach brought back her concerns about the Jarvises again. She hoped they were alright. She realised now that one of the reasons she _had_ been successful in her missions was due to the aid Edwin had offered her.

Through the haze of terrible pain, she remembered the steadfast presence of him at her side after her fall; he who had just disarmed two nuclear bombs on his own, saving humanity, probably, and then had had the presence of mind to tend to her wounds without even the slightest hint of squeamishness or hesitation.

He’d been her rock, through all of that. She remembered the solid, if lean, feel of him against her as he helped her from Violet’s home and into Howard’s car. And then, from Howard’s car and into her bed, where he’d helped her dress for sleep and had almost lovingly tucked her in, admonishing her without even a hint of the anger and panic that Daniel had shown.

He'd let her know that he cared by his actions and words, by the way he all but gazed down at her once she’d been squared away in bed, warning her without warning her that he would be extremely upset if anything happened to her. And then, the next morning, he had cleaned her ugly wound with the hands of an experienced field medic, ignoring his wife’s aversion to blood and guts and only mildly scolding her when she’d told him upon waking that she needed to get to work straight away.

Peggy frowned. She’d been so caught up in her work and, to be quite honest, a little bit inebriated by the morphine she’d been given by Violet after the accident to even think about how much Mr. Jarvis had helped her out. He’d been there when she needed him. He’d understood that things needed to be done, and he’d allowed her to be the judge of her own wherewithal. While he clearly cared deeply for her wellbeing, as Daniel did, he showed it in such a different way. Such a decidedly amenable way. _That_ gave her pause.

She’d told Jarvis in the car that day that she didn’t know what she wanted. And it had been so true. Jason Wilkes had had his good points, and though she knew navigating through an mixed-race relationship in America in the times they were living in would not be the easiest task, she had been willing to give it a go.

And Daniel Sousa had shown enough of the Sousa she’d worked with in New York for her to consider a relationship with him, as well. It was why she’d waltzed into his office that day and kissed him senseless. She’d made up her mind, or, in hindsight, had been forced to because of the dark turn Jason’s life had taken.

But relationships were hard. She was starting to realise that Daniel really had changed since he’d come here, and, quite frankly, it was not for the better. Perhaps it was the job—being Chief _required_ a bit of said prickly demeanour, to keep those below you from getting too close, but she hadn’t expected that to extend to her. They’d always been able to talk, her and Daniel, and to be honest with each other. It was part of the reason why she’d pursued this relationship in the first place.

But now she couldn’t even think to share her problems with him. Something deep inside her _knew_ that telling him about Ana’s words would be a bad idea. He’d always suffered from issues with his self-worth, how could one not when they weren’t able to do the things they used to? When people stared as he hobbled down the street, pity etched on their faces.

She couldn’t tell him, knowing that it would only lead to him questioning everything, no matter how much she doth protest. He’d give her that look, that sad, pathetic look, his forehead wrinkling with dismay, as she explained that Ana was just traumatised by the shooting and she was so very, very wrong and there was absolutely nothing between her and Mr. Jarvis.

But the voices she knew spoke inside his head would tell him her affections were waning, and he'd would become despondent and suspicious. She knew the guys back in New York had needled him, teased him. Compared him to Steve, told him it was hopeless.

But shouldn’t she have been able to talk to him about anything? If the two of them were going to go the distance, should he not have been the first person she went to whenever anything was bothering her?

The truth was she would have spoken to the New York Daniel about it. But L.A. Daniel was too touchy, too cynical. And yet he wore his emotions on his sleeve, let them get to him in times of strife.

She sighed audibly, glancing at the telephone on her desk and willing it to ring. Ana and Edwin _had_ to be okay. She could not cope with anything happening to either one of them. _Why won’t they answer the phone?_

Peggy shifted in her chair, picking up her coffee cup, but hesitating before placing it back down on her desk. More coffee was not the answer. She got up and strode over to the tiny room they called the cafeteria, which was really just an overlarge broom cupboard with a few small appliances.

She needed tea.


	6. Chapter 6

Edwin Jarvis woke again about an hour later to chirping birds, and groaned. The light outside his window was comparatively brighter, and he knew he ought to get up. But he could not. How could he when he was now just a shell of the man he used to be?

He’d been so vehement with Ana the night before, trying to tell her that she was mistaken. That these horrible things she had said had been untrue. But the heavy hand of guilt pressing down on him said otherwise. His wife was a very astute woman. Nearly all of her observations of their marriage and the way he treated her he now knew deep in his gut to be painfully correct.

As well, her assessment of Ms. Carter’s relationship with Chief Sousa had struck a chord with him. He had to admit he wasn’t entirely keen on the two of them being together. Daniel Sousa was, as men go, a rather decent one.

But Ana was right, he did seem to hold Peggy in a _very_ high regard, as if he revered her rather than loved her. He fussed around her when she was hurt instead of offering useful aid, such as the impalement incident at Violet’s house, and he didn’t seem to trust her enough to know her own limitations. He was overly concerned over her welfare, despite the fact she had proven herself time and again. It was something that Edwin hadn’t noticed until Ana pointed it out. And if Ms. Carter didn’t love him, well…

And speaking of Violet, she was, by all accounts, a lovely young woman gainfully employed as a nurse who seemed to love Daniel a great deal. Edwin didn’t know all the details, but from his assessment, it would seem that Chief Sousa became engaged to her either to make Ms. Carter jealous, or, in an admittedly ill-fated attempt to move on from his feelings for Peggy. Either way, he thought it rather distasteful for a man to toy with a woman’s emotions like that, to use her as a pawn and deny his true feelings for something else.

He thought back to his discussion in the car several weeks previous with Peggy, after her romantic near-encounter with Daniel outside Calvin Chadwick’s fundraiser. It was quite clear she really _hadn’t_ intended to attract the affections of two different men. _She_ hadn’t been purposefully toying with their emotions. In fact, it seemed to him that she truly didn’t know _what_ it was she wanted. She’d been confused and overwhelmed and just looking for advice from a friend.

And then, when she’d been on the verge of returning to New York, he’d sent her right into the arms of a man with which she had, according to Ana, no future. And Ana was very rarely wrong.

The thought of his wife brought the sadness back down on him like a hammer. Edwin sighed, miserably, and shook his head. Why was he waxing poetic about Ms. Carter’s romantic entanglements when the woman he’d been married to for nearly seven years was intending to leave him?

 _Because I do care more than I should_ , he resigned, and sighed, defeatedly. He turned onto his back, staring at the plaster on the ceiling as if it held the secrets to getting out of this mess he was in.

But the answers, he knew, lay not there but in his own heart.

How could he simply just let Ana go? The woman who had been his constant, his adoring and adored companion for years? The thought of never seeing her again made him sick with grief and longing. Ana was a part of his life. She _was_ his life. How could he simply just pretend like she wasn’t? How could he go on from this?

Birds tweeted outside the window, and he glanced over to see that weak sunlight was filtering onto the grass outside. The day was dawning, and with it, his responsibilities as butler of the Stark Residence.

But he couldn’t manage to care. The maid knew what to do, as did the florist and the groundskeeper. Ana would be leaving to move into Howard’s penthouse in mere hours. The thought of this made him feel ill.

That meant that the only meals that would need to be made would be for him and Ms. Carter, assuming she hadn’t spent the evening with Chief Sousa. (Edwin found himself hoping, in light of everything, that she hadn’t.) So, he wouldn’t need to call the cook. Peggy could make herself breakfast, and, with any luck, wouldn’t need dinner, either.

He didn’t know if he could face her today, in any case. She would take one look at him and know something was wrong straight away. And as well, considering Ana’s allegations regarding their feelings for each other, he thought it best to avoid her for now.

At any rate, he could afford to remain in bed at least for a few more hours. He could do with a lie-in. The past few months had been rather trying, to say the least, what with Whitney Frost and the dark matter, catering to Howard’s new career and the hangers-on it brought with it, his occasional forays into the world of spying, and, of course, Ana’s injury and near-death, not to mention her still-ongoing recovery.

The world wouldn’t end if Edwin Jarvis decided not to come into work for one day. It wasn’t as if Howard were around to reprimand him, anyway, and it wasn’t as if Howard would find cause to reprimand him even if he were around. Edwin was fairly certain that, considering the circumstances, Howard would understand.

He sighed, again, and joined his hands together over his chest, feeling the metal of his wedding band rub against his finger with every breath. He looked down at it, the burgeoning light from the window glinting off the gold as it moved. The ring that had meant so much to him. _Still_ meant so much to him.

He unlaced his fingers and brought his hand closer to his face, spinning it around his finger with his thumb. The simple gold band had been a representation of their devotion to each other for all these years. How was he supposed to just…disengage himself as Ana had? To take off this ring and place it in a drawer somewhere and pretend he’d never worn it? He didn’t want to create a scene, to wail and gnash his teeth. Ana didn’t deserve that.

But how could he just let her walk away?

Weeks ago he had nearly lost her, only to have her recover, and now she was leaving him forever? He was an Englishman, through and through, keeping calm and carrying on as one was supposed to. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t immune to emotion, or afraid to show it. How was he supposed to keep his sense of decorum when the woman he’d hoped to spend the rest of his life with was leaving?

And why? Because she believed he was in love with Peggy Carter of all bloody people. He huffed in frustration, rubbing his hands over his face rather vigorously.

 _This is ridiculous,_ he thought. _I’m no more in love with Ms. Carter than I am with Mr. Stark._ He huffed, again, angrily this time, and dropped his arm back down on the bed.

But as the anger faded he knew he was being economical with the truth. For one, Ana’s decision to leave seemed to be based more on her own feelings rather than his. Her suspicious about him and Ms. Carter were merely the straw that broke the camel’s back, as it were.

And as he thought about it, he knew his fervent denial of any untoward feelings toward their houseguest had been reactionary at best. In truth, Peggy Carter had burst into his life many months ago at a time that had been rather frustrating for him and Ana. Life as Howard Stark’s butler and friend wasn’t quite as interesting as many would have thought.

His employer’s long absences took a toll, as most of the time Jarvis didn’t even know where Howard was. And if he did, communicating with him was always spotty and infrequent at best. As a result, he and Ana spent a great deal of time together in a very large, empty house. And when Howard was at home, it was usually either as the star of a raucous pool party or as the source of many new and terrifying sounds and smells coming from his laboratory.

Ana had been working, and had a few close friends she regularly saw. She preferred Los Angeles's incessant sunshine to New York's cold damp (which Edwin had preferred) and seemed happy enough at the time, but he knew that the ennui of living in ‘another man’s mansion’, as Ms. Carter had so aptly put it, had been taking its toll for some time now. 

They’d never talked about children. He had left it up to Ana to tell him when she was ready. He wasn’t against the idea of being a father, but bringing a baby home to the servants’ quarters of Howard’s million-dollar manse wasn’t exactly how he’d imagined starting a family.

He knew he'd only have to ask, and Howard would’ve found them an appropriate house of their own. But between taking care of Howard’s many, _many_ paramours, and trying to exercise some level of supervision over what the incorrigible man was creating in his laboratory—often to no avail—Edwin often felt as if he had a child to care for already.

Besides, despite Howard Stark’s numerous love affairs, Edwin knew that he, Ana, and Ms. Carter were the only people that Howard truly trusted and considered his friends. He loved having the three of them around. And so, in the end, Edwin didn’t have the heart to even mention that he and Ana might need a place of their own.

And then, Howard's inventions had been stolen, and Peggy Carter had, quite literally, violently entered his life, showing him a world he’d never known existed. Factories imploding into themselves, the two of them barely escaping with their lives. Tracking people and staking out their houses, gunfights atop milk trucks filled with enough explosives to level Manhattan. It had been fantastic, and terrifying, and he’d been completely dazzled by both the world of espionage and Peggy’s skill as an operative.

In fact, he’d been completely dazzled by everything about the woman from the moment they met. She was incredibly strong and athletic, clever as anything, and absolutely unapologetic about all of it. She exuded confidence and, yet, wasn’t afraid to show vulnerability. She was always three steps ahead of him, always challenging him to be better.

She was unlike anyone he’d ever known.

And the six months he’d spent away from her after Howard’s abrupt decision to move to Los Angeles had been, admittedly, _incredibly_ dreary. He’d done his best to ignore exactly why he felt mildly depressed during that time, and had put on a brave, happy face for his wife.

But he knew Ana had noticed, and had again noticed when his life suddenly regained its lustre upon Ms. Carter's return. He'd been almost deliriously happy that day when he saw her alighting from the aeroplane to greet him (and, unfortunately, Bernard). And suddenly he was knee-deep in adventure again.

 _You underestimate your allure, Ms. Carter,_ he’d told her that day in the car, and he’d meant it. He hadn’t just been referring to her appearance, although she was, admittedly, a stunningly beautiful woman. He knew they squabbled like siblings sometimes, but, deep down, he wanted to be around her and enjoyed her presence more than almost anyone else.

Of course, he’d been a happily married man, then. There had been no innuendo in any of his thoughts about her or words to her. It was in a completely platonic way that he'd thought of her, even if there was the occasional awkwardly charged moment or overly long look between the two of them that was, of course, never spoken of again. He was with Ana, and thought he would be for the rest of his life.

But that wasn’t the case anymore. Had he been truthful to his wife the night before about his feelings for Peggy? Really, he didn’t know. He’d only been in love once before. And the way he felt about Ana was so different from how he felt about Peggy Carter that he didn’t know how to classify it.

He wasn’t denying that he found her attractive. Incredibly so, at times. Especially when she was exchanging blows with some poor sap who underestimated her strength and skill. It was like poetry in motion, really, watching her fight. He’d never seen someone so seemingly harmless inflict so much harm and look no worse for the wear doing it. And not to mention how much he loved her chameleon-like ability to blend in, to appropriate any number of accents and behaviours to get what she needed. She had so much confidence and was so fearless, even when things went pear-shaped and hope was dim. Even then, she never wavered.

She was truly a one of a kind: loyal to a fault to her friends and colleagues, utterly selfless and totally committed to righting wrongs and attaining justice that, at times, he felt it should have been _her_ who was the superhero, not Captain Rogers.

And he supposed that, _yes_ , there were times when he felt something approaching inappropriate levels of affection for her. When she looked at him with those impressively deep brown eyes, he often felt all thought leave his head. When they touched, in a completely innocent fashion, of course, he’d still felt it. That spark. There was _something_ there. He just didn’t know quite what, yet.

And Ana was right that he didn’t even think twice when risking his life for her. How could he? She needed his help. There was someone out there threatening the peace they’d fought so hard for. He was a soldier, through and through, even if his military career had come to a premature end. And he would continue to fight with her no matter what the consequences.

He closed his eyes and shook his head, feeling ridiculous for even entertaining these thoughts. What did all of this matter, anyway? He wasn’t going to suddenly begin a relationship with Ms. Carter simply because Ana thought them compatible. The entire idea was preposterous! They may have been living in Los Angeles now, but that didn't mean they should suddenly begin to emulate the stars in Howard’s pictures.

He couldn’t just divorce one wife and quickly move onto another like some Hollywood heartthrob. He had more propriety than that. He was English, for god’s sake. And more than that, he didn’t think his heart could take it. A man needed time to process the loss of his marriage before plunging headlong into another entanglement.

And besides all of that, not only was she currently involved with Chief Sousa, the thought of Peggy Carter having romantic feelings for him, of all people, was almost laughable. It was fairly clear that she saw him as a friend and a partner and no more. What could she see in him, Howard Stark’s stalwart butler who’d begged his way into working with her in order to assuage his boredom and unhappiness with his own life? She was so much better than him. So much braver. She deserved a man like Captain Rogers, someone who could match her ferocity both physically and emotionally.

He was not that man.

Though, now that he had taken the time to consider it, neither was Daniel Sousa. But what business was it of his? He couldn’t butt into her affairs and tell her to find someone better. He had more respect for her than that. He would leave them be. Ms. Carter would realise that they were not compatible in time. Hopefully. Either way, it was out of his hands. Just like Ana’s decision to leave him.

He glanced out the window to see bright sunlight shining onto the lawn. It was time for him to get up now.

Instead, he rolled over, pulled the covers over his head, and went back to sleep.

Ψ

Peggy put the kettle on, feeling a calm settling over her just by the familiarity of the act. She took a deep breath and leaned against the counter, glancing out the window to see she had a perfectly unobstructed view into Daniel’s office.

She watched him for a few seconds as he scribbled something onto a paper, obviously lost in thought and hard at work. Suddenly the image of Violet came to mind again, walking down that city street, her purse slung over her shoulder and a paper bag of groceries in her arms. She would recover, Peggy knew. She was pretty, likeable, smart. Brimming with youth and vitality. She’d find someone new in a heartbeat.

But, still.

This selfless, strong girl had welcomed her into her home and patched her up without a second thought. Peggy owed her life to her. And yet Daniel had tossed her to the side like yesterday’s news. He had been so single-minded, so _sure_ of his feelings for Peggy that he hadn’t seemed to care who he hurt in the process.

She supposed she should have been flattered. But now, here, it left a bad taste in her mouth instead. Even she hadn’t given it a thought until she'd seen Violet that day with her own eyes. She winced through the sting of latent shame as she watched Daniel answer the telephone, speaking to the caller without even a hint of the guilt she felt. It left her irrationally annoyed.

In truth, she _had_ been flattered by Daniel’s attentions at the time. That he clearly had a soft spot for her had been nice, a balm to soothe the pain of Steve’s death. Knowing that she meant something to someone, that someone had her back, had been a great source of comfort to her.

But had it evolved from that into stronger feelings? Or had she simply been responding to his attentions with the eventual desperation she had started to feel? He’d been the only one, that is, until Jason came onto the scene, that had shown true romantic interest in her in the years after Steve’s death, despite the plethora of men she’d spent time with on a daily basis. She had had to admit, that as her age crept closer to thirty, and as her heart began to mend, she had begun to feel somewhat impatient with the way her love life seemed to stagnate. Especially when she witnessed how seemingly easy it was for Howard to have a new, beautiful woman on his arm every time she saw him. Although in that case, she was sure the money helped considerably.

Had those feelings been the catalyst for her burgeoning interest in Daniel? Had what she thought was true romantic interest been borne from a fear that she’d never be able to do better?

She looked back at the man in question again, watching as he conversed with the person on the other line, taking notes as they spoke. But then suddenly, his demeanour changed, reacting, she assumed, to something the caller had said. He stood angrily, now shouting into the telephone receiver. Her breath caught in her chest as without warning he slammed his hand down on his desk so hard that a few agents turned to look. But then they turned away, seemingly indifferent, as if they’d seen it all before.

Had they?

She frowned as the teakettle whistled indignantly behind her, startling her out of her thoughts. She turned, wresting it from the cooktop and filling the teapot with the steaming water. As she placed the lid on the ceramic pot, watching the tendrils of steam curling up from it she tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach.

She knew what she had to do, though the thought of it filled her with apprehension. She would have to sit down and have a serious talk with Daniel. About the change in his behaviour and how it affected her. About what he wanted from their relationship, and about what _she_ wanted from it.

Of course, first, she would have to meditate on her own feelings and figure them out. She needed to spend some time seriously thinking about the future of her and Daniel Sousa. It was the only fair thing to do. She’d been too preoccupied and under too much stress to think about it then, back when they’d gotten together. And to be truthful, then it had just been fun.  

But she knew that soon fun could turn serious, as it was wont to do when couples were together for long enough. Eventually he would propose, and how could she turn him down, her steadfast friend and lover? It would break him if she did. And then: a wedding, children, juggling the demands of marriage, parenthood and work. A mortgage, a dog, two cats. Cars in the driveway that needed to be paid for. Before she knew it, that would be it. Her life gone.

She’d been on that precipice before, years earlier, and she had no desire to make the same mistake her poor late brother had saved her from making. She could not do that, not to Michael's memory, not to herself, and not to Daniel. She needed to know that they were the right match, that he was still that man she’d known in New York, had admired and respected. She needed to be sure that she loved him, with all her heart and without wanting for anything or anyone else. Her own happiness was on the line. And that was not something she took lightly.

She sighed, deeply, turning to pour herself a cup of steaming Earl Grey. She blew on it lightly, looking out again at the man in question, no longer on the telephone but still a ball of nervous, angry energy, a scowl etched on his handsome face as he jotted something down on a pad of paper.

She turned from the window, sipping tentatively at the hot tea. She still hadn’t heard from the Jarvises, and the worry was beginning to get to her. Her work day was going absolutely no where, and yet she was still here instead of going back home to check on her friends. And, she needed some quiet time alone to think, to figure out her future. And this was definitely not the place to do it.

She didn’t know how long she stood there, as the beverage cooled, lost in thought. She’d barely noticed that she was drinking her tea black, but couldn't be bothered. The bite of the tangy brown liquid was exactly what she needed at the moment.

When she finished, feeling replenished and somewhat consoled, she went to her desk and got her things. Daniel, from behind the glass of his office, had not seemed to even notice her, or the fact that something was clearly bothering her. She rolled her eyes, turning on her heel and making her way to the door. She’d deal with him later.

Agent Peggy Carter was taking the rest of the day off.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know. I'm starting another multi-chapter fic. I can't promise I'll finish this one, but I'll do my darndest. I just cannot get the Peggy/Jarvis ship out of my head and need to cleanse the palate after the lame forced 'romance' between Peggy and Daniel in S2 and the cartoon buffoonery that was Jarvis this season.


End file.
